


The Red Star

by wedontslave



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Reminiscing, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedontslave/pseuds/wedontslave
Summary: There is one red star that stands out from the rest in the dark, starry sky. Just like us, Clarke. Our love beats all.ORLexa deals with Clarke's passing.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	The Red Star

_“Do you remember, Lex?” Clarke smiled as she scooted closer to me in our back garden. It hadn’t rained in over a week, which was why when it finally rained, she had squealed with delight and ran out into the back garden basking in the platter of liquid that splashed her left, right and centre. The rain had stopped by now, meaning that there was no more water hitting her and me who were lying next to each other on the grass in their garden, staring at the deep, starry sky. The petrichor that was emanating from the grass gave the whole atmosphere a serene feel, and I really liked it. It wasn’t often that I got these tranquil, soothing moments with the scintillating blonde, my love, everything good in this world._

_I turned my head to the right to meet her beautiful gaze. “Remember what?”_

_“That’s our star,” Clarke pointed over to a bright red star in the distance on the far left. “It’s the same one, see?”_

_My smile turned lopsided as I lazily took in her appearance: she was wet and tendrils of golden hair clung onto the curves of the sides of her face, her clothes were a bit muddy from lying in the grass, her cerulean eyes sparkling with delight and wonder. She was so beautiful._

_“How can I forget?” I cooed. “It’s the only red star out there. It’s special.”_

_“You got that right,” Clarke’s lips curved up into a loving grin. “Just like us. We’re special.”_

_“You know that red represents fire, right?” I noted, amused and flattered._

_“And we’re fiery, no?” she replied instantly, scooting in even closer into my arms. “Red also represents love and desire, and we have plenty of that, don’t we?”_

_“We sure do,” I whispered._

_“I love you, Lexa,” she mumbled into my shoulder. “Our love is just like that star: eternal, right?”_

_“Yes,” I breathed. “I won’t stop loving you no matter what.”_

_Clarke gave a satisfied smile and leaned in to capture my lips. It was amazing._

* * *

Life throws curveballs at us all the time. It is a bit like the moment when I realised that I was gay, it skewed everything, made me question everything I thought I knew. Was I confused? Was it just a phase?

It wasn’t. I am so glad that I met Clarke in my life, she was the light, the luminescent angel that I desperately needed when I was in the deepest depths of despair, in a downward spiral that I had no idea how to get out of. She kept me grounded. She saved me, she saved my life.

I loved her, no, _love_ her so much.

I find myself crying until I fell asleep whenever I see your cerulean orbs that haunt me, Clarke.

I remember vividly _that night_.

I had been making her favourite, spaghetti carbonara, because I knew that she has had a long day at work and I wanted to cheer her up because I knew that she would be extremely tired. I really liked the feeling of this: the domesticity of the whole thing, it was almost like we were a married couple. She would come home huffing out cold air, a little frustrated at the bus driver or something, but when she sees my face, her face would light up as if my mere presence was able to make her day. It flattered me to no end, and made me feel so lucky.

We were definitely behaving like a married couple, but neither of us has acknowledged it. We have our fights, but we make up. We go shopping together, we do the laundry together. The day you moved in, nearly a year ago, was probably the happiest of my life.

I was going to pop the question, I had the ring all prepared, carved, and tailored to us because we are _special_ , but I waited. I wanted to wait for the right time, the perfect moment where everything would be memorable and do the significance of the whole thing justice.

The right time never came.

It was dark. It was late. And you haven’t come home yet, Clarke.

I was so worried. You were cycling to work today, what if you got hurt? Or your chain broke down, and couldn’t get home?

I had decided to wait a little longer – maybe you had to stay behind to finish a few more papers or something.

The food was going cold. My anxiousness throbbed rhythmically, I needed, no I _had_ to find you.

I was trailing her route to work, wondering if I would come across her on the way, in which case I would take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders because she would be cold. I could visualise the scene playing out: she would refuse, but I would insist, and she would blush and take it begrudgingly. I would then plant a kiss on her lips and we would walk home together, bikes slowly rolling by our sides.

Or I could turn up at her workplace and find her buried behind mounds of paperwork, and that would be when I coax her to come home, to leave her work behind and spend time with me instead. She would be so elated, she would stand up and kiss me endlessly because I made a little bit of effort in picking her up.

However, neither of these things happened.

I came across an ambulance that was parked near the pavement about three blocks from our house. There was a fenced-off area. Back then, I was more confused and curious than anything. What had happened?

People say that living in oblivion is the best thing, oblivion is bliss. Sometimes I wonder if I hadn’t found it out _that_ way I would be a little less scarred.

I saw _you_ , Clarke.

I ignored the tapes that blocked me off from the incident scene. I needed to get to you, I needed you to tell me that you were okay.

You didn’t even respond to my cries, you didn’t respond to my pleas. You weren’t even breathing, Clarke.

It shattered me.

I couldn’t register anything anymore. Everything was a huge canvas of white, a huge canvas of purple, blue, red, green, everything, it was so confusing. My head span, your porcelain, lifeless face haunting my mind.

I vaguely registered the paramedics saying that there had been an ‘accident’ which involved in her demise. She was taking a right turn into the road towards our house, but a van didn’t see her and ran her through at thirty miles per hour, side-on.

Clarke, why did I ever let you cycle in the dark?

I fell into a bit of a funk. I turned to alcohol to pass my days, I found sleeping a better sanctuary than being awake because it allowed me to escape reality.

I craved her touches. I craved her caresses. I just wanted to hear her voice, feel her breath one more time.

Just once more. Is that too much to ask? Just one more feel?

We never got married. We never got a chance. Our _eternal_ love was truncated abruptly by one single unfortunate event.

I remember the day that I was taking a swig of gin, perched on the picnic bench in our back garden, when I saw _the_ star that jolted me to my senses.

The red star.

It was at that moment that I realised how ashamed and disappointed you would be if you were here and saw what my life had turned into. How my career that was going so strong fell into shambles as soon as you left me.

I use it to talk to you, you know. Every night since that day, I would lie down on the grass that we both used to lie on and watch our star drift across the massive canvas of the black sky.

It was bright. Just like you, Clarke, you were the light of my life, the yin to my yang.

It was bigger than all the other measly stars out there, just like how our love was, _is_ greater than all those out there.

It was beautiful, just like you, Clarke.

The days trickle by as I find solace in the calm night, feeling the soft breeze trickle by my ear. When the red star is in the sky, I can feel your presence, I can feel your smile, the soft curve of your lips when our lips are connected.

I wonder how you’re doing, Clarke. I hope you are in a better place now.

I have not touched another drop of alcohol ever since.

And to this day, Clarke, twelve years after your death, I have not seen another red star. Only the same one that we have watched together since we were little.

I love you, Clarke. And I will never stop.

Unconditionally. Vehemently. _Eternally_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you left a few words telling me what you thought about this it would be absolutely amazing! 💖


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